


Apertura

by nxymxrjr (KingPreussen)



Series: La Sinfonía [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Blood and Injury, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Violence, Organized Crime, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 22:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6875761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingPreussen/pseuds/nxymxrjr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Lio watched through bored, half-lidded eyes as the newest idiot in his city walked in, escorted by two guards. He decided that he could move in on Lio's territory and one of Lio's all seeing eyes brought him in for questioning. It was a futile effort from the beginning--they were working out of an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town, complete with little code names and balaclavas. Lio hadn't ever heard something so </i>hilarious<i> in his life.</i></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>Lio is a crime boss, Neymar likes to party, and Cristiano thinks he's hot shit.<p><b>Content Warning</b>: The sexual assault in this story is minor and non-violent, but please proceed with caution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apertura

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell i'm procrastinating?
> 
> i love crime boss lio and this isn't the last you'll see of him

Lio watched through bored, half-lidded eyes as the newest idiot in his city walked in, escorted by two guards. He decided that he could move in on Lio's territory and one of Lio's all seeing eyes brought him in for questioning. It was a futile effort from the beginning--they were working out of an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town, complete with little code names and balaclavas. Lio hadn't ever heard something so _hilarious_ in his life.

Lio leaned further back in his wingback chair--its addition to his study wasn't his decision; Neymar, his lover, had a very specific idea of what a crime boss's office should look like--and waved the man closer. The guards deposited him, none too gently, in one of the much more practical chairs across from his desk.

He wanted to wait, to watch the man squirm, but he really didn't have the time. A week ago Lio would be willing to draw things out. Now his duties were split not quite evenly between coddling Neymar and tracking down a promising lead on Cristiano Ronaldo, the man who thought he could destroy all of Lio's hard work. It wasn't working, obviously. Lio's reach was much wider than Ronaldo could imagine.

"What do you want?" Lio asked the idiot lightly. He tried not to let his fingers twitch in a tell. Too many of his enemies mistook it for nervousness (a mistake quickly rectified), but really he just wanted a cigarette or twelve. Neymar made him quit smoking months ago but the cravings still came. It was the only thing Neymar had ever wanted him to change about himself and Lio just couldn't disappoint him.

Lio's expression lost some of it's disinterest while he thought about his 'boyfriend'. Neymar was young and loud and excitable, and while he had gotten pulled into Lio's world through less than legal means, they were now attached at the hip. Lio did everything in his power to keep Neymar happy. Neymar had trouble understanding that money wasn't an obstacle when it came to Lio and tended to use his own money for things, but Lio knew his funds were dwindling.

That was a problem for another time.

The idiot in his study sneered at him, leaning forward with his elbows on the wooden arms of the chair. Lio was pleased to see his nose and lips red with fresh blood, more of it soaking down the front of his button down, and his eye blackened; he had obviously gotten mouthy with his guards and they took him down a peg. Lio didn't like getting his hands dirty but he would gladly spill some more blood if he didn't get his act together.

"I want you dead," he spat with a heavy French accent. The guards moved forward but Lio raised a hand and they went back to their positions by the door. "Fuck you and your little empire. You're shit."

Lio almost smiled. He had received his fair share of threats in his lifetime, but none of them were so… blunt. Maybe this idiot would be fun. "What do you want?" he asked again. 

"I can't wait to see a hole in your head." The man really spat, this time, blood and saliva landing on Lio's Persian rug. Lio sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't care, but Neymar was going to have a fit.

Right on cue, his Brazilian burst through the study doors, dragging his friend Rafinha by the hand behind him. "Lio!" he said, grinning, but his smile dropped at the sight of the man in the chair. "Oh. You're busy."

"We can go," Rafinha assured Lio, using Neymar's grip on him to pull him back out to the hallway. Neymar pouted but took a step back.

"No, no. Come here, darling." Lio pushed his chair away from his desk and patted his lap; Neymar practically ran over and sat sideways over his thighs, giving Lio a chaste kiss. Rafinha was slower to follow. Lio watched him take in the bloodied state of the man in the chair, and the spots of fresh blood on the carpet. "Something wrong?"

Neymar shook his head. "Me and Rafinha wanted to go out tonight," he explained, kicking his legs over the arm of Lio's chair. He wasn't oblivious to what was going on around him--Lio watched his bright, sharp eyes take in everything in the room, from the armed guards to the beaten man across the desk. He just chose to ignore it when Lio was there to take his attention.

"You don't need permission for that, Ney," Lio chided gently. He pressed a kiss to Neymar's temple, looking up at Rafinha for a moment. "And you can always take any of my credit cards with you." Neymar just blinked at him and Rafinha looked away. "There's something else."

Neymar's mouth twisted the way it always did when he was about to lie or tell Lio something he didn't want to hear. "We don't want guards with us." Lio's arms tightened around him and he hid his face nervously. "We won't be gone long," he promised, voice muffled in Lio's shirt. "It's just, we wanted to go to a club and we don't want them stalking us. It chases everyone who wants to dance away!"

"Absolutely not." Lio's gaze turned suspicious, still aimed at Rafinha. "Did you put him up to this?"

Rafinha, unlike many of Neymar's friends, was at the point where nothing Lio did scared him anymore. "Do you think _I_ would suggest this?" he shot back. "This is all his idea. I'd rather go with double the guards."

Lio exhaled against Neymar's forehead and looked down at him. "Let me think. I'll be with you in a few hours."

Neymar could never tell whether Lio meant yes or no when he said "let me think", so he obediently stood from Lio's lap and leaned forward for a goodbye kiss. "Love you," he said brightly.

"And you," Lio murmured back, his smile finally breaking out. "Go on."

Rafinha put a hand at the small of Neymar's back and started to lead him out. When they passed the idiot, however, he decided it would be a good idea to reach out and smack Neymar's upper thigh with the back of his hand. Lio was standing over him before Neymar could even grab his hand away, one hand at the man's throat and the other clenched around his wrist.

"I'm taking this hand," Lio said coolly. "Neymar, out."

Lio didn't miss the way Neymar leaned more into Rafinha as they left, trembling from anger and disgust, but Lio wanted to deal with this himself. If he followed after Neymar he was sure his guards wouldn't leave anything left.

The man was grinning like he had gotten away with something. "Your little boy toy looks lovely, Messi," he murmured, reaching down with the hand Lio wasn't holding up to palm his own crotch through his jeans. "I wonder what he tastes like."

An amateur would grind their teeth together, or narrow their eyes, or start to yell. Lio wasn't an amateur.

* * *

"You still have blood, here." Geri made a circle around his own eye and Lio sighed, using a tissue to scrub at the area.

He regretfully let his guards take care of the idiot and burn his severed hand. He didn't want to smell like burning flesh--Neymar didn't like it, so Lio didn't do it--and he wanted to go comfort his boyfriend. Hopefully Rafinha or some of his other friends were still there to support him. Since he wasn't in the master bedroom, the first place Lio checked, he probably wasn't alone.

Geri leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. "So you just took the one hand?" he asked.

Lio shrugged. "His fingers, first. Then his hand."

"At the wrist?"

Lio finished pulling on a new shirt, dropping the old one in the trash for the maids to clean up. "Yes, unfortunately. Too much bone in the forearm."

Geri nodded. "Makes sense. You want me to do anything?"

Neymar had friends far and wide, all with different levels of closeness, but Lio had very few. Geri was one of his best friends even before all this "empire" shit and he hadn’t ever wavered. Lio didn't think he trusted anyone except Neymar more.

"No," Lio said after a moment of thought. "I don't know everything I need to yet." He wasn't a very suspicious man by nature, but he knew it would be stupid of him not to treat every little thing as a possible precursor to a major threat. If he could get anything about Ronaldo out of that _idiot_ , he was in luck. If he couldn't, well. Free stress relief.

"Okay," Geri said simply. "I'll leave you to Neymar, then. He's in the dining room, by the way, drowning himself in chocolate."

Lio rolled his eyes good naturedly and passed Geri, going downstairs as quickly as he could. Sure enough, Neymar was sitting in front of one empty chocolate wrapper, another bar held in his hand. Rafinha was rubbing his back comfortingly; when he saw Lio, he stood and folded his hands behind his back.

"Lio, I'm so sorry, I didn't--"

"Not your fault," Lio said quickly, clapping Rafinha on the shoulder and looking up at him seriously. "No one else has ever thought to touch him. It was both of our mistake."

Rafinha seemed to take solace in the fact Lio wasn't mad. After a fleeting smile, he ruffled Neymar's hair and left.

Neymar grumbled and fixed his hair with his free hand. Lio didn't think he could ever tire of the sight of him, whether he was sleepily wandering about the house, half naked with wild bedhead, or dressed to the nines in an effort to impress. Even when Neymar was too tired or too drunk to be coherent he tried to make sure Lio knew he loved him. Even when Lio got frustrated and pushed him away, he refused apologies and never held a grudge.

"Darling," Lio said softly, pulling out his own chair beside Neymar's. He brushed a strand of dark hair out of the loop it formed when Rafinha mussed it and swept it back into Neymar's style. "Are you alright?" he asked.

The younger man leaned his side against Lio's chest without looking up from his chocolate. "What a fucker," he mumbled, mouth half full. Lio had no misunderstanding of who he was talking about.

"I know. He won't ever touch you again, I promise." Neymar nodded and lifted his head to brush their noses together; when they kissed, it tasted so strongly of Neymar's preferred 80% dark chocolate that Lio couldn't help but recoil. Neymar turned pleading doe eyes on him and he huffed, but used one hand on Neymar's jaw to guide their mouths back together.

Neymar was the first to break away before Lio could even coax him into parting his lips. "I want guards," he said earnestly, just as Lio predicted.

"Of course, Ney."

" _Double_ guards."

"Anything you want."

After a moment of thought, Neymar pressed his forehead against Lio's shoulder and dropped his chocolate bar on the table to hold him around the waist. "Come watch football with me," he ordered more than asked. Lio grinned into his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading


End file.
